Chapter One<br >He walked along i~ deep thought， concentrating on two<br >things: how to av0jd the dog skit on the Amsterdam<br >sidewalks and how~o stay alive. The first was con-<br >venient; the second was vital. He d be a little better<br >than half successful that day.<br > Threading a path through throngs of Amsterdam-<br >mers grateful for this crackling warm spring Saturday，<br >Nat Worthington pushed on to his rendezvous， oblivi-<br >ous to the noises of trams and traffic and to the gentle<br >lapping of water spoken by a canal boat as it hauled a<br >load of tourists. He Was weary.<br > One more pickup， they d told him. One more---just<br >a little errand--and you can rest. He pressed on<br >toward a rough red brick building. It reminded him of<br >the ones in Boston and of a time of his innocence when<br >he wasn t so afraid he feared life itself， when he wasn t<br >so tired.<br > He reached up to scratch his nose and was surprised<br >to find perspiration on his upper lip. A ease of nerves:<br >it was unusual for a pro like him.<br > 1<br ><br >